Stupid Cupid
by Terra Saltt
Summary: Love is merely a profession for Arthur. That is, until the angel is shot with one of his own arrows… FrUK AU. Francis x Cupid!Arthur. Happy Valentines day! (EDIT: ABANDONED)
1. Chapter 1

**Valentines day is coming up! To go with your useless Hallmark cards and cheap chocolates, I give you FrUK. But with a fun twist~**

**Warnings:**

**Francis x Cupid!Arthur**

**Fluff**

**Rated T for France.**

**Title may change if I can think of something better.**

**Enjoy!**

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><p>"Pay attention!" a shrill voice interrupted the classic 8-bit music held in the hands of the young angel apprentice. The DS was taken from him with a sharp tug and the boy reacted instantly.<p>

"Hey, give that back you meanie!"

Arthur, the annoyed teacher, furrowed his rather thick eyebrows at his student who was messing around yet again during a very important lecture. The hand held game device was suspended in his palm for a moment before it disappeared in a quick burst of sparks. "No. You will get it back after your lesson. Honestly, Peter, I have tried everything to keep your attention!"

The boy, whom looked quite a bit like his older coach but with sandier blonde hair, bluer indigo eyes, and much smaller wings crossed his arms and scowled. "Everything but being cool," he mumbled.

Arthur was at his wit's end. "Peter, you are training to be the bloody Angel of Love! This is not like one of your little video games, this is a very important position bestowed on you. Possibly one of the most vital jobs in all the heavens!"

"How the heck is being the stupid Angel of Love so vital? I wanted to be something cool, like the Angel of the Sea. Did you know Ravis is going to be the Angel of the North Wind? How awesome is that! I would _live _to have a job like that."

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose and mentaly counted to ten. He must have explained this to the cherub at least ten times already. "Do you even know what love is? Don't you see how essential it is in the lives of all beings, big and small, and how it plays into life itself? Love drives life like a battery. When the love is gone, all life ceases to exist. It is my job as the Angel of Love to keep the battery charged and one day it will be your sole responsibility." The angel turned towards the bank of clouds they stood on that dropped off steeply into the mortal world below. "See all of those people? They are the reason we exist. Sure you could be the Angel of Time or the Angel of Fire, but none of those compare to the pure astonishing gift of being an angel that interacts with God's most cherished creation. To be an Angel of Virtue or an Angel of Truth is an honor only given to those who can contain the strength needed to nurture something as powerful, fragile, and pure as a human soul."

"Woooaahhh…"

Finally! Arthur was starting to drive some sense into the boy. He smiled and turned back to him feeling a warm sense of humble pride. "Do you see now why your destiny is so impo-"

"Cool! You should have seen that back flip I just did! I think I beat my high score," Peter exclaimed with his eyes glued to the small screen of a Gameboy. Where the heck was he getting those?

"LISTEN TO ME, YOU LITTLE RUNT!" The Gameboy was taken and thrown off the edge of the cloud as far as Arthur could chuck it. "You need to LISTEN if you are going to LEARN how to do this job right!"

"What's there to learn?" Peter stomped his bare foot and crossed his arms angrily, the material of his silk white robe bunched where he stood defiantly at his livid teacher. "All you do is fly around and shoot people with arrows all day! That is boring. This job is boring. YOU ARE BORING."

Something inside Arthur finally snapped. A hundred and fifty years of this torture finally got to him and his eye twitched involuntarily at the unwilling pupil that refused to learn anything. With an angry grumble, Arthur materialized his bow and arrows out of thin air and shoved them at Peter almost knocking the boy down. "Alright, wise guy! If you think you can successfully do my job without any prior instruction, than so be it! Try it. I DARE you."

Peter took the objects and looked at them with wide eyes. The golden curved bow was about as tall as he was and the red and white-tipped arrows were heavier than he expected them to be. For one hundred and fifty years he saw Arthur using them as if it took no effort. How hard could it be? Just aim and shoot. Yeah, he could take on this stupid challenge. That will show his dumb teacher!

"Fine. I will!" Peter set the elegant bow down to get the red velvet quiver over his back and firmly in place. It needed some adjustment to fit the smaller body. Arthur watched with glaring emerald eyes as the cherub struggled to tighten the strap. Finally, he picked up the bow in both hands and stood up determined to take on the world. "Where to?"

**~3~**

The place Arthur picked to start the challenge was somewhere he classified as easy. The two hovered over the busy streets of Paris, Peter's smaller wings having a difficult time keeping himself afloat with the heavy objects, and Arthur smirked.

"Alright," he clapped. They were invisible to the world of the living below. "Get to it."

Peter hesitated. He looked down at the many people below his gold wrapped legs wearily. "…Get to what?"

"My job, of course. If you think being the Angel of Love is so easy, I want to see you do it."

"Oh, right," he pulled a fake smile and adjusted the shoulder strap of his quiver as if he was getting prepared. It was obvious he was merely stalling. "Okay! I'll get to it, then. Here I go…" The two stayed put for a second longer before the boy turned to his teacher who bore a smug look. "Um…so how do you usually start?"

"I thought you said you don't need help," Arthur stated nonchalantly as he inspected his flawless nails. The younger furrowed his brow and puffed out his cheeks.

"I'm not asking for help! I was just wondering how you do it. You know, for comparison of our…techniques."

Arthur decided to let him believe he got away with this one. It was going to be painfully clear he had no idea what he was doing in a minute or two. "Well, how I often start is I look at the people around me." Peter turned his eyes to the street directly below and scanned it. Arthur kept going. "Then I key into someone who needs me."

"Someone who…"

"I don't kid myself with the small ones. I always jump right for the hearts with the biggest need." Peter was at a loss. Hearts with the biggest need? How was he supposed to find those out of all the people here? How could Arthur tell the difference between them? "You _do _know how to see hearts, don't you? I know I haven't taught you that yet, but I am sure you know what you are doing. You said it yourself."

"R-right!" If he couldn't see them, he would have to do it the old fashion way. The boy looked around for anyone who looked like they needed a lover. "This isn't timed, is it?"

"Take all the time you need."

Alright, it is ON! There was a woman over there on her bike. She looked sad and alone: a perfect target. He drew the string back on the bow with a heavy arrow between his fingers. It wobbled a little bit as he took careful aim, and right before he was about to fire…

A man came out of the bakery she was parked in front of and her expression instantly lit up. They shared a quick kiss before they started talking cheerfully and walked off hand in hand. Peter relaxed the bow string when he realized his target was already taken. Dang, this was a little harder than he thought. But he wouldn't tell Arthur that.

The senior angel watched from the side, his long white wings keeping him afloat as his toga-like dress and short yellow blonde hair danced in the light breeze. He could tell the other was having difficulty just trying to find a target. This argument was going to be won very easily and perhaps now he could convince Peter to pay attention during his lessons.

The taught string was suddenly released with a loud snap. A trail of sparks highlighted the path the arrow took as it shot out and hit a person below. Just Peter's luck, it was a bulls-eye. "Yeah! Got one!" he cheered.

"Very good," Arthur clapped his hands twice with slight amusement. "You completed the easy part."

"Easy part?"

"Yes. Now you have to find that man's match." Matching people wasn't as easy as shooting two humans and expecting them to love each other. There are rules that need to be followed if an arrow is going to take. Many things must be considered before you can pair two people up. It wasn't like Arthur was going to sit back and watch Peter screw up two lives, though. He would intervene when the foolish boy attempted to match the wavy haired man tending to flowers in a shop window with someone completely inappropriate.

Peter gulped and slowly drew another arrow from his back. This one had a white tip and he placed it at the ready while he searched the crowd for a girl that looked like she might give a flying mint bunny about that guy with the little ponytail. There was one who looked around his age and he started to draw the string.

"Nah-ah," Arthur shook his head. I wouldn't if I were you. Not a very good pick."

"Sh-shut up. I was just…testing you." He took aim again at another pretty girl in a car. The one watching made a noise like he was clearing his throat. When the boy looked at him, he was turned the other way and whistled a little tune that sounded like 'London Bridge is Falling Down.' Becoming agitated, Peter grumbled to himself and hurriedly searched again.

"Really? Her charisma and his tolerance?" Arthur murmured over Peter's shoulder.

The boy had enough. "Stop interrupting me, you are breaking my concentration!"

"What concentration? You are trying to put apples and oranges together. Here, let me show you the proper way to do it." The older decided to end the charade here. He went to take the golden bow from Peter's hands but the boy suddenly dodged.

"I can do it! I told you, I don't need your help."

"Yes you do. You have absolutely no idea what you are doing or why." Arthur attempted to take his items again but Peter dropped low and out of his reach.

"Yes I do. You just won't let me show you that I can. Stop treating me like a kid! I'm an angel like you!"

"You are not an angel until you can master this properly," Arthur narrowed his eyes and followed. Peter kept darting away and refusing to be caught insisting that he wasn't given enough of a chance. He refused to give up. "Peter, give me the bow!"

"No!" he refused and flew away again just out of Arthur's reach. The angel was really starting to get tired of this. "Let me do it, I can do it!" He drew the arrow again and randomly locked onto a target below. Who cares if it was a bad idea? He just had to make a match and show Arthur who was boss!

"Peter, stop!" Arthur launched himself at the younger trying to prevent him from releasing the arrow and grabbed his arm. The other thrashed about trying to get away. "You don't know what you are doing! Give me the-"

During the struggle the cherub accidentally let go of the string. On most occasions, with that little pressure behind the arrow it would not launch very far at all and simply fall to the ground harmlessly. However, this one did not. Peter went still when he realized what he'd done and Arthur blinked in shock. Imbedded in his chest was the white-tipped arrow shaft, the silver feathers on the other end protruding from his heart.

"…Whoops," was all Peter was able to say before something unexpected happened. Arthur's glow was starting to fade. His wings were becoming transparent and his bright green eyes were growing dull. Before the young one's sight, his mentor was starting to fall.

Arthur could feel the energy suddenly being zapped from his body. Never has an angel been hit by one of his arrows and it appeared to be detrimental as he lost his balance in the sky and started to descend. Slowly at first, then gaining speed as earthly gravity took effect. Peter took his hand and tried his best to pull Arthur back up but it was no use. The cherub could hardly support his own weight on tiny fluttering wings much less a full grown angel. Their contact broke and Arthur felt the breath leave his lungs as he plummeted to the ground with his pupil calling after him. The warmth of heaven grew faint until all he felt was cold wind rushing past his ears, then…

_CRASH!_

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><p><strong>Oh, I<em> wonder<em> who he fell on? *rolls eyes***


	2. Chapter 2

**WHOOPS I had this chapter finished awhile ago but I forgot to post. Haaaaah...**

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><p>"Francis!" A woman called from behind the counter. She had several boxes of pansies balanced in her arms and the man she called for set his watering can down to help her.<p>

"Yes, Eliza?"

"Can you take these out front for the display?"

"Sure thing, mon amie," he said with a flourish of his words and he took the boxes from her arms only to find they were much heavier than she let on. Little purple and yellow flowers tickled his nose and he could hardly see over them as he shifted the weight so it wouldn't topple over. Francis wasted no time bringing them to their destination so he could give his already straining arms a rest. The little bell on the door jingled when he opened it with his hip and stepped onto the busy sidewalk of Paris.

The man hummed to himself cheerfully as he set the load down and started to arrange the delicate flowers on a display cart under the shop window. It was nearing the end of his shift and he was practically bouncing on his toes in excitement for the night to come. It was Friday and he and his pals were planning to hit the town hard. It was going to be nothing but drinking, partying, and lots of big breasted wome-

_CRASH!_

Suddenly Francis was on the ground. He didn't really know how he got there but when he came to he was aware that something heavy was weighing him down. Around him was the messy remains of what used to be pansies in cracked plastic cups and dirt littered his green apron.

"Ahhh, blimey that smarts!" the thing on top of him hissed and cringed. It was a man and he struggled to get up on his elbows with his eyes squeezed shut. They opened cautiously at first, then went wide no more than a few inches away from Francis's face. They were such a lovely shade of green… "Wha-WAH!" The man yelped, flailed, and rolled off the one he just landed on. Francis sat up and shook his head noting that some strands of his silky hair were loose from the small tie he kept them in. However, rather than fixing it, he simply stared at the one to his side.

He had short wind tousled flaxen locks with small bits of plant and dirt sticking out, creamy peach skin, and a young face. His build was slim which was easily noticeable by what the guy was wearing. It looked like some kind of white toga wrapped over one shoulder and synched at the waist with silver hemming. The man wore no shoes, instead sporting golden lace that wrapped up his shins in a crisscross fashion. He didn't appear to have any body hair other than on top of his head and he had to double take to make sure it was not a girl. Those clothes sure were…revealing. The toga covered only half his chest and didn't go past his knees. The material was lifted up a little showing off his hip where he sat looking around in pure bewilderment. How cute!

"Wh-what the bloody bullocks?" he gasped. Ah, so he was English. How disappointing. Still, this person was undeniably attractive. "Peter, you little berk! I'm going to tear you limb from limb when I get back up there!"

"Sir? Are you alright?" Francis tried to ask but he was ignored as the man continued to yell at something in the sky. He looked up and saw nothing. "Excuse me!" A tap to the shoulder startled the other and made him look at the puzzled man joining him on the ground. Francis put on the best suave face he could and offered his hand as he stood. "Mon ami, I believe you fell on me. Are you alright?"

Instead of apologizing or explaining himself, the stranger in odd clothes instead turned bright red and nearly fell over himself trying to scoot away. "Woah, don't touch me!"

That wasn't very nice. "I believe _you_ fell on _me_. How rude." He then realized the guy was scooting backwards farther than he should. If he went any more he was going to fall off the curb and get hit by a speeding car. "Watch out!" The stranger froze up when Francis jumped and grabbed him by his white garments to pull him forward. It was just in time, too. A second later and the man might have been a pancake. "What are you trying to do, get yourself killed? This is a street, not a playground!" The other merely looked at him with wide eyes and…woah, those were some big eyebrows. But they seemed to fit his young face so he guessed even they were endearing. Childlike, even.

"S-sod off," the guy mumbled under his breath and it looked like he was trying to get up. Francis watched as he struggled to stand but it was like he didn't know how to walk or something. He kept muttering something under his breath and was looking anywhere but at Francis.

"That is a terrible way to thank someone after they broke your fall and saved your life," Francis said with his hand once again extended. The man didn't take it preferring to get up himself. His knees were shaking a bit and he gave Francis a look that was hard to decipher. "Are you hurt?"

"Yeah, but I'll be fine. Thanks, I guess. Goodbye." He immediately turned to leave but Francis wouldn't have any of that. He grabbed the man by the back of his toga and yanked him slightly. It was supposed to stop him from walking away but instead made him yelp and topple over. Francis had to catch him before he hit the pavement. It was like he had no balance at all!

"L-let go of me!" the other grunted through his teeth. He was starting to cause a scene as people walked by giving the two strange looks. Francis held onto the man's shoulders and shook his head with a little smirk.

"Non. Someone has to explain to my boss why all our pansies are suddenly un-sellable." Francis made sure the other was upright before gently tugging him by his arm towards the door to the flower shop. The man fought to be free but he couldn't do so without falling over again so ended up along for the ride. The little bell dinged when the door was opened and Eliza was already there with a narrow-eyed glare. She saw the whole thing from the window and wasn't too happy.

"Look at what you did!" Her accent was slightly Hungarian. "That was a whole crate of pansies, now gone. I hope you intend to pay for the flowers you ruined."

"Pay?" the man quirked an eyebrow like the idea was ridiculous.

"Yes, pay. You better carry a wallet in that frilly dress of yours. Have you been drinking today?"

"Of course not, and this is not a dress. I'm sorry about the flowers but I _really_ have to go," he snapped and made a rush for the door. Francis blocked him from getting away.

"The destruction of store property is a crime," he said sadly. "Please, mon ami, comply with her before she does anything brash." _…and give me a chance to get your number._

"Oh, just what I need… Look, I'm not supposed to be here. If you won't get out of my way then you leave me no choice." The man bent his knees and looked up at the ceiling. He then put his arms out and jumped like he was expecting to go somewhere but instead went crashing into yet another display of flowers, these ones tulips. The two winced as shattered vases and crumpled blossoms were strewn over the floor and the man was face down in a puddle of spilled water and bent stems. "Ow! Wha-what the devil is going on…? Where are my wings, and why can mortals see me?"

Ah, so this guy was an escapee from the funny farm. Francis was utterly crushed. Even though he took an interest in this one, not even the cutest of the cute could overshadow the turn off that is lunacy. Francis had enough dates with crazies to know that it was never a good idea. What a shame. He gave the brunette girl a look and she took the hint. While he distracted the man not right in the head, she brushed her long hair behind her ear and went to the counter to pick up the phone. Great, this is_ just_ what they needed at the end of a long shift…

"Sir, calm down and stop breaking things!" Francis went to the mess on the floor and kicked away some broken pottery and glass. The Englishman got off his face and tried to get up again but only fell right back down when his bare foot stepped on something sharp.

"YAH! Oh God, that hurts!" he practically screamed.

"Keep him quiet," Eliza pleaded to her employee as she dialed a number. The one on the floor turned around to see what she was doing. "Hello, police? Yes, my name is Elizave-"

The phone suddenly jumped from the woman's hand. It magically flew across the room and into the waiting open palm of the clumsy intruder who quickly hit the off button.

"Don't do that, please." The room was suddenly silent. Everyone stared at the one on the ground still clutching his foot. Did the phone just jump from one side of the room to the other? How did he do that? "A little help? Something is wrong, I am hurt! This pain is unbearable, errrgh…"

"Hold still," the pretty brunette woman with a white flower tucked behind one ear demanded as she held Arthur's foot in one hand and was bandaging it with another. The white strips of tape were wound around his arch where a small cut from a shard of glass made a red line. Never had the angel bled before. It was a sharp pain that made his entire leg shake, not to mention the blood coming out made him feel sick. He sat on the counter of the flower shop clutching the edge like a lifeline while the other man, the one Peter shot, stood there with his hands on his hips watching Arthur closely.

"…You are a what?" he asked again slowly. For the third time Arthur answered through gritted teeth.

"An angel. Ah, not too tight!"

"It isn't tight at all. Don't be a baby."

"I'm n-not a baby! I just haven't ever been hurt like this…"

The Frenchman simply stared at him in wonder. He looked Arthur over with scrutinizing eyes and it made him feel utterly nervous. The angel watched mortals all the time but he was not used to being watched by one of them. Especially one of them that may be at risk for falling in love with him. There was no telling if the arrow would even work on an angel and human! "Is that how you levitated the phone from Eliza?"

The woman named Eliza finished wrapping the cut and stood back to admire her handiwork. Arthur examined it himself suddenly feeling relief. The pain was starting to fade away. _So this is the fabled magic of band-aids?_ "There has to be some explanation for how the phone went from my hand to his," she said. "That just isn't possible…"

"For you, perhaps, but for me it is nothing."

"If you actually are an angel then what the hell are you doing here?"

Arthur restrained himself from scolding her for using foul language. "Er, there was an accident…I fell."

"What kind of accident?"

"I was shot."

"Oh? I didn't know they have guns in heaven."

"It wasn't a gun, it was an arrow. My own arrow. Ugh, I'm going to throttle Peter when I get my hands on him!"

"Who's Peter?"

"My student." Arthur was getting tired of these questions. Now that he was calmed down and bandaged up he had to start thinking of what he was going to do. "I don't know what is going to happen to me. I don't belong on Earth and with me gone, the only one that can take my place is that brat and he hasn't completed his training enough to have a clue about what to do. I can't fly, I seem to be vulnerable to injury, and mortals can see me. But at least I still have some power left…"

"How unfortunate! M'ange, you have my sympathy." The Frenchman took Arthur's hand and brought it to his lips in a courteous bow. He kissed the top, throwing a devious look at the angel who turned pink and instantly pulled away.

"Sh-shut it, frog! I never asked for your sympathy, did I?" Usually he was a little more polite but there was something about this man that Arthur really wanted to slap in the face.

"There is no reason to be so rude, I was simply-"

"Okay, settle down boys," the woman put her hands out as if to keep them from fighting. She turned to the one on the counter. "What is your name?"

"Arthur," he replied. "What are yours?"

"I am Eliza and this is Francis," Eliza gestured to the blue-eyed one in the green apron still eyeing him. "Welcome to Earth, I guess."

"Thanks, love."

"Arthur!" The angel suddenly flinched and looked at the front of the store where the voice was coming from. The other two followed his eyes but they probably couldn't see Peter fly through the store window like a ghost still carrying Arthur's golden bow and heavy quiver. "Are you okay? I'm so sorry!"

Arthur got ready for yet another lecture to his ill-mannered student. "You better be. Look at what you did to me! I told you to listen but you couldn't, could you? Always doing things your way. Always disregarding my advice. Look at what you have done now!" Francis and Eliza looked to where Arthur was speaking but didn't see anything. To them, the man was talking to the air.

"I'll try to undo it, I swear!"

"No, don't you try to do_ anything_. Just go and get some real help, okay? Find someone who knows what they are doing." It was about then that Arthur realized the boy was starting to tear up. He hovered over the floor casting a slight glow on the surfaces around him clutching the elegant golden bow to his chest.

"I'm sorry…I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to…you probably hate me now…"

A wave of guilt washed over the fallen angel when he saw his student make that face. He already knew he was in deep trouble and yelling at him wasn't going to help matters. Peter could be annoying, but he never meant any kind of harm. He just wasn't aware of the consequences to his actions. "…I know, I know. It is okay, I just hope you learn from this. I don't hate you."

"Y-you don't?"

"No."

The boy wiped his eyes on his wide sleeve and produced a tiny cautious smile at his mentor who sighed and motioned for him to come closer. He did and Arthur took him into a small hug. The cherub felt so light and warm in his arms, unlike anything he'd ever felt. Is this what heaven's warmth felt like to a mortal? It was amazing. "There, there. It was a mistake, I just hope you learn from it. Find someone who can help and we will get back to your lessons as soon as I am back."

"Okay…" A brilliant idea went through Peter's mind and he broke the hug with a wide grin. "I know, I'll get Alfred!"

"Yes, go and get – wait, what?"

"Alfred will know what to do. He always does, he's the hero!" Peter zoomed away with a confident smile before Arthur could say anything. "I'll be back, I promise!"

"Peter? Peter! No, don't get that fool! …Oh, bollocks." Arthur could crawl into a hole and die for all he cared. Not only was that Alfred git coming to 'save the day' but he also had to deal with these two mortals, one of which was staring at him like he was a mental case and the other…well, he didn't quite know if the arrows took or if the man was flirtatious with everyone. It kind of seemed like the latter. "What, do I have something on my face? It is rude to stare."

Eliza cleared her throat and gave Francis a sheepish glance. Arthur could see the skepticism written on her face clear as day. She didn't seem to be buying the angel story. "Right, well. Francis, you watch him while I clean up this mess." She pointed to the floor littered with debris from Arthur's clumsiness. The woman grabbed a broom and dustpan from behind the counter but their guest put a hand out to stop her.

"Let me get that for you, dear. It is my fault after all."

Francis cocked his head to the side and gave him an inquisitive look. "How are you going to help when you can hardly stand up by yourself?"

"Like this." Arthur waved his hand towards the mess and immediately something started to happen. Shards of glass and crushed tulips shuddered in place for a moment before suddenly being drawn together as if pulled by a magnet into a pile. Any vases that were miraculously unscathed were set up in a row and undamaged tulips placed in them by an unseen hand. It took all of a few seconds to have that done leaving only a puddle of water and Arthur looked back at the blonde with a smug look. His jaw was nearly on the floor at what he just witnessed. Eliza's, too.

"You…you just…but how did you…"

The man brought a single tulip to his hand from the counter and nonchalantly inspected its yellow petals with a smirk before handing it to the dumbfounded brunette. "I am an angel. Didn't I tell you this?"

"…Y-yeah, but…"

"I don't blame you for finding this hard to believe. It isn't every day an angel comes to Earth this way. Usually they need special privileges, but I seem to have accidentally found a loophole."

"Which is?"

Arthur hesitated to answer. Yes, they needed to know he was an angel so they didn't call the cops on him or something drastic like that. But he didn't quite want them to know exactly what kind he was, either. He already said something about his arrows but hopefully neither would connect the dots and discover they came from Cupid's bow. "…None of your concern. Sorry, but I am not at liberty to disclose very much information."

"Well then…you are far from home," Eliza reached out and touched Arthur's arm experimentally as if she thought he would feel different from other mortals. She seemed disappointed when it was like any other arm. "What are you going to do? Where are you going to go? Is there anyone coming for you?"

Arthur tapped his chin and crossed his legs dangling over the counter in thought. "I…I'm not sure. I admit that I am very lost at the moment… My student just left to get some assistance so there is someone coming for me and I doubt that I am stuck here forever. It is only a matter of time, but until then I am stuck in this mortal form."

The florist clasped her hands together and looked at him with shimmering eyes. "You poor thing! I can't believe it, an angel is here in my presence needing help! This is amazing! Francis, isn't this simply amazing?" Looks like she finally believes.

"Oui." The man, who had been rather silent, blinked as he stared at Arthur. Fascination was engraved in his features putting the angel on his toes.

"Do you need a place to stay until your help arrives?" Eliza asked.

"That would be smashing," Arthur agreed with a nod. Now that she knew she was dealing with a divine presence she seemed more eager to help, just as planned. "Your hospitality would be highly appreciated and I will see to it that you are rewarded for your generosity. Thank you, Eliza."

The woman let out a short quiet laugh and looked to the side. "Oh, you are welcome. Though I and my husband were planning on going away for the weekend, but if it is for an angel I guess I can tell Roddy to cancel…" Everyone could tell she was disappointed. Francis shook his head of wavy hair making his ponytail bounce and objected.

"Ma chère, no! This is the weekend you have been talking about for an entire month! You two have been postponing this for ages and this may be your only chance to get away with your love before he goes on tour for a whole year," he stressed the last part dramatically.

"What else can I do? An angel is in need, you don't just ignore that. Unless…do you want to take him, Francis?" Eliza had the biggest puppy eyes Arthur had ever seen. You would have to be Satan himself not to be affected in some way.

The man looked at Arthur and smiled brightly. "Of course. It would be no problem."

"Oh no," Arthur immediately shook his head. "There is no possible way I will be going home with _him_."

"And why not? What have I done, besides saving your life twice?"

He was going to reply when he realized he had nothing to say. It wasn't like Arthur could tell him the truth! He was very wary of the man he was accidentally partnered with. Can his arrow even affect angels? As far as he knew, this hadn't ever happened before. "Because…that is classified."

"Classified?" Francis quirked an eyebrow. "Why on Earth would that be classified?"

"It just is."

"Well I don't see that as a good enough reason."

Eliza cut in. "Um, if it really is a problem than I can cancel my plans…"

"Non! You and Roderich have a wonderful time. I will baby-sit the angel."

"Why are you so insistent?" Arthur crossed his arms at the man and glared. Francis returned it with that sly look of his.

"Because I want to know what you are hiding."

"I am not hidi_nnhhnm_-" Arthur threw his hands over his mouth when his speech turned to garble. Everyone looked at him funny.

"What was that?"

"Uh…angels aren't allowed to…lie."

"Aha!" Francis pointed a finger at him with a wide smile. "So there really is a secret. I want to know what is so special about me." Arthur's cheeks tinted pink and he started stuttering over his words.

"Th-that is none of your business! I don't have to tell you anything."

"Alright, I give up," Francis rolled his eyes and leaned on the counter next to Arthur who tilted away slightly from the one drawing ever-closer. "But do you really want to infringe on Eliza's big weekend? Surely you understand how important it is for a couple to have time for one another and these two have been neglecting that for some time. Look at her, doesn't it nearly break your heart to see this pretty woman in such a state?"

"What state?" Eliza gave Francis a dagger filled look and crossed her arms. "I am fine, honest!"

Arthur, having the ability to see more than just a face, knew she was lying. She might think it was the truth but her heart was saying another story. One look and he could see the edges were becoming frayed and it was clear how strained it was with the stress and longing. Francis was right, she really did need this weekend with her husband almost to the point of it being critical. His job was to pair and keep people together and if the Angel of Love got in the way of that it would be a crime. Arthur was trapped between his job and his feelings. As always, his job came first.

"…Alright," he sighed making the two currently bickering stop and look at him. "I will stay with Francis for now."

"Really?" both asked and blinked at the same time. What were the odds?

"Yes. Have a wonderful time with your husband."

"But…you said you aren't allowed to stay with Francis," Eliza pointed out.

"No, I said that I don't want to. But I will change my mind if it means not interfering with your plans."

She smiled brightly and took Arthur's hands in hers. "You are such a gentleman! Thank you so very much, but are you sure?"

"I am sure." Arthur replied with his own encouraging smile. "Don't worry about me. Francis is right, you do need this weekend with your husband…more than you know." He sneaked in a wink to her before Francis clapped his hands together and laughed.

"Ohonhon! Then it is settled. My shift is over so I will get my coat and we can be on our way."

Arthur couldn't help but let out a small groan in the back of his throat. Great, he had no choice but to be whisked away to whatever hole the frog came from. But it was either that or go against his sworn duties. He would have to deal with it for now until help arrived and hopefully he would survive. One look at Francis's heart told him all he needed to know.

This was going to suck.

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><p><strong>I always laugh whenever I make France say 'I give up!' in any of my fics.<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Whoops, my bad! I thought I already posted this chapter, but I guess I didn't. It's kinda been done for awhile... Sorry for the wait.**

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><p>…Alright, so Arthur had to admit that the frog's hole wasn't exactly a 'hole.' He happened to live in a rather classy two-story townhouse apartment looking over a quaint Paris square. His living room consisted of a modern black corner sofa, a matching loveseat, and a small spotless glass coffee table sitting on a beige colored rug. The floors were cherry hardwood and the small but comfortable kitchen was seen through an arch doorway. There was a large window letting in warm light from between silky curtains and a black railed spiral staircase circled up to the second floor. And was that a small bar next to the dining room? How did Francis have all of this from a simple flower shop job?<p>

"Welcome to my home," the host said as he led Arthur inside, holding him around the shoulders so he wouldn't fall. He wasn't used to walking under gravity and with the lost weight of his wings. Francis noticed the other's awe and confusion and chuckled. "It may be small, but it is my home."

"I wouldn't call this small…do you share with a roommate?"

"No roommates. It is just me here, but I am rarely alone." He gave the other a little wink and set his work apron down on the hook by the door. Arthur stood in the living room taking everything in from the collection of shelves boasting pictures and small pieces of art to the huge surround sound speaker system hooked up to a plasma screen TV hanging on the wall. There had to be some reason for all of this expensive necessity. Arthur didn't put it past him to be some kind of crook.

Well, perhaps he could, but there had to be something wrong with this man. Arthur was trying to pinpoint what it was the whole way to Francis's home but so far he couldn't find anything. Not even after pushing his buttons a few times did he discover anything off.

Why was Arthur trying so hard to see his host's flaws, you may ask? Two reasons: there was something a little dark around the edges of his heart meaning he was a partaker in one of the seven deadly sins, and…well…Arthur had to stay on his toes around this man. He didn't know if the arrow would affect him but he didn't want to take the chance, so if Arthur found something to hold against the frog, it would give him a reason to dislike Francis. It was just a precaution, really.

"I have a guest room upstairs you can use. Make yourself at home," Francis said as he went into the kitchen. Arthur heard the water run for a moment and decided to follow with careful steps, seeing as he had nothing else to do. He didn't have any baggage or duties to attend to while they waited for Alfred to show up. All he could do was wait.

The kitchen was sleek with a stainless steel gas stove, marble counter tops, and a double door refrigerator far too big for a single man apartment. The dining room table was to the far left in front of sliding glass doors that led to a small balcony overlooking the street below. It was small but not cramped. Rather cozy, even. Francis saw Arthur eyeing his surroundings with a hand on the wall for balance and waited patiently for the verdict with a smug look. Though the angel wanted to wipe that smirk off his face, he couldn't deny that he was impressed. "Your place is…classy. You keep it well kept."

"Why, thank you! I do my best. I will tell my maid that you approve of her work."

"You have a maid, too?"

"Of course."

"Forgive me for sounding rude but I must ask how you afford all of this. Do you work more than one job?"

Francis laughed at the sheer thought of working more than one job a day. "Goodness no! The truth is that I was left quite a lot by my family. I am, how you say, set for life."

"Lucky you." Arthur took a seat at the table and looked over the edge of the balcony. The sun would be setting soon. "So why do you work if you don't need to?"

"I do it as a hobby," Francis shrugged and took the chair beside him. He'd poured himself a small glass of wine and swirled it around its crystal glass between his fingers while he followed Arthur's gaze. "I've worked many jobs, none for too long. There are so many things I want to try that I cannot sit still. From cooking to gardening and even _massage_." The last bit he said with an infliction as he put his eyes back to his guest. "You would be surprised the tasks my hands can do."

Arthur couldn't help but flush at that innuendo and scowl. "That isn't funny, frog."

"I thought angels were supposed to be nice!" Francis sighed dramatically and took a sip of his wine. "I was only trying to get you to laugh, m'ange."

"Yeah, well…I'm not the laughing kind."

"What do you mean? Is there no laughter in heaven?"

"No, there is plenty of laughter in heaven."

"Then why don't you laugh? I don't think I have seen you even smile once since you fell on me."

"I just…don't. There isn't much to smile about right now."

Francis was going to argue to the contrary when a certain sound made him hesitate. It was a grumbling whine that lasted for no more than a second. "Was that your stomach?"

Arthur looked down a little embarrassed with himself. He wasn't used to his body doing these things. "Uh, yeah. I think I am hungry." That is what the sharp pain in his abdomen was, right?

"So am I. I'll whip us up something quick and easy, shall I? What will you have?"

"Whatever you want I guess. I've never eaten anything before."

"Then I will treat you with some delicious French cuisine for your first meal! Oh, this is exciting! An angel will be trying my cooking, what an honor."

"Don't get too excited. I've seen what goes into French food and I am a little wary." Snails and eel heads were not at the top of Arthur's list.

000

Dinner was marvelous. Francis made a cod fillet with lemon and basil sauce that Arthur couldn't help but devour and the host watched with interest as the angel's face turned from one expression to the next. Taste was a whole new thing to him and he couldn't seem to get enough of it.

But then he made the mistake of offering some white wine, as was customary during supper. Arthur accepted it cautiously, and then decided he liked it. Of course now that he was mortal and he'd never had any alcohol in his life, it didn't take more than a sip or two for him to get tipsy. Francis was going to take it away but decided 'eh, why not?' and let him continue drinking, thinking it would be worth seeing an angel drunk. Perhaps it would loosen Arthur up.

"An' then he has the gall to call me a cherub! D'ya know how insulting tha' is? A _cherub_! Do I look like a bleed'n cherub to you? I'm a certified seraph, thank'ya very much." Arthur brought his hand down on the table (not hard but enough to make the silverware jingle) and Francis sat there trying to figure out what he could do to get Arthur off his tangent. It seems he wasn't that fun of a drunk after all, the guy only complained and ranted the more he drank. "An' there's anuther thing…what gives archangels the right to appoint seraphs that can't do their bloody jobs? I'm surrounded by idiots up there! If I were an archangel, you can bloody bet there would be changes. Hey…my glass is empty…"

"That will be all for you tonight," Francis said quickly and got up to clear the table.

He took the glass from Arthur's hand and put the bottle of white wine away while balancing the plates on his arms, much like an experienced waiter. Arthur was entertaining the idea of nudging him and seeing what would happen, but he decided against it. Instead he imagined the carnage of plates and dishes shattering on impact if Francis dropped them all and laughed instead.

Francis whirled around at the sound, still keeping everything balanced, and blinked. Arthur was laughing? Finally! It was about time he got to see that perfect face light up a little. Whatever he was laughing at, Francis thanked it. "Like I thought, mon cher, your laugh is like bells on the wind."

"Really now? Yours sounds like croaking. Haha!"

"That isn't very nice…"

"Neither are you."

"Who is giving you a home this evening when you have nowhere to go?" Francis gave him a look from the kitchen counter where he set the dishes down and corked the wine. Arthur crossed his arms over his chest, still half exposed from his flowing white garb that only covered half of him.

"Well…ya're the reason I'm here, anyway…"

Oh? This was news. Perhaps getting him drunk was a good idea after all if it got him talking. "And why is that?"

Arthur opened his mouth to answer but was suddenly cut off by a loud sound in the living room. It was Francis's door which was now slammed wide open against the stops he installed after years of this kind of entrance, and who should come waltzing in like he owned the place but Gilbert. Behind him was Antonio who was a little less rough but still just as intrusive.

"Hey Franny, hope you didn't forget boy's night! Kesese," Gil cackled. He was in his tight fitting black wife beater with matching black wrist cuffs and dark gray skinny jeans stuffed into tall combat boots, ready to party as always. The man was incredibly pale, had natural ashen hair, and striking red eyes. An albino, in short.

"There's a new club that popped up last week," Antonio added with a wide smile. He was also dressed up in a red button down, sleeves rolled up just below his elbows, and straight leg jeans. A thin checkered tie was loosely tied around his neck and his chocolate colored short hair was tossed to look like an organized mess. "I know the bouncer, so let's go!"

Francis dropped what he was doing and went into the living room to happily greet his friends. He gave Antonio a kiss on each cheek and received a friendly slug in the arm from Gil who didn't quite like that kind of greeting. He was German, what do you expect? "Bonjour! I am so sorry, I completely forgot! Something has come up, I have a guest."

"A guest?" Both men looked over Francis's shoulder to see Arthur still sitting at the table looking intrigued at what was going on in the living room. His cheeks were obviously a little flushed from the alcohol and Francis realized he was still in his angel attire.

Gil walked right into the dining room with a hurt expression and gave Arthur a look over. Before Arthur could ask him what the bloody heck he was staring at, Gil turned back to Francis and whined like a child told he wasn't going to the zoo after all. "Whaaaat? Couldn't you wait until _after_ the party to bring someone home?"

Antonio followed suit. "What is he supposed to be? Did you get him from a toga party or something?"

"_I say!_"

"And he's British, too. Wow, Franny. Your standards went down."

While watching Arthur's face scrunch up in a mix of horror, anger, and disgust was hilarious, Francis knew he had to correct them. "Heh, no that isn't quite what this is. Arthur is staying the night because he recently _fell_ on hard times."

Arthur snorted. "Ya sure are a hard time, ya bloody frog."

Francis ignored him and simply chuckled. "You have to excuse him. He's had a bit too much to drink this evening. Sorry guys, but I won't be able to go with you tonight."

Gil's red eyes went wide and he looked at his friend as if he just witnessed a murder. "But…but _Francis!_ This is a tradition! You can't break tradition; we've been doing this every weekend since college!"

Antonio shook his head making his tie bounce. "We have canceled before, amigo. Don't be so dramatic."

"Yeah but those times were different. Someone would get sick or their parents would be in town or something."

"I am sorry, Gil, but I have to help Arthur. He has nowhere else to go," Francis shrugged. Gil continued to protest, though.

"Why not jus' go with em?" Arthur said after hearing the three bicker. "I'm fine here by myself, I'm not helpless."

Francis shook his head. "You are drunk. What if I leave and you get yourself into trouble? Or worse yet, you throw up on something important! I cannot have that."

"I'm not gunna to do anything, I'll jus' go to bed," Arthur rolled his emerald eyes and started to stand up. Of course, his drunkenness didn't help with his already awful balance and he proceeded to fall over immediately. Antonio was the closest and caught him in the nick of time.

"Wow, you are right. You probably should stay here with him, Francis. He doesn't look too good." Francis helped Antonio move the drunk man to the couch and let him fall on it, the Brit complaining the whole way. Meanwhile Gil was staring as if contemplating something.

"So who is he, anyway?" the albino asked. "I've never seen him before and you don't talk about any Arthurs." Francis was suddenly put on the spot and he nearly stumbled over his words. Nearly. Francis was a wonderful liar, a skill he was thankful to have. It helped him out of many sticky situations in the past.

"He's Eliza's friend. She asked me to take care of him while her and Roddy are on vacation." Eh, it was close enough to the truth.

"She," Arthur mumbled with his face in a pillow.

"I beg your pardon?"

"She!" he said again as if the others were morons. "Ya said 'her and Roddy' when it should be 'she and Roddy.' Imbeciles…"

Everyone stared for a moment before Gil started up. "Are you serious? Francis, you have to admit that your time would be better spent with us."

Francis was having a hard time finding any reasons to the contrary, but he knew that he couldn't just leave. "You are right, but unfortunately if my boss finds out I left him alone like this, she would be selling my_ head_ in a pot. Je suis désolé, gentlemen, but I have to decline."

Antonio took Gil's arm and nudged him towards the door knowing his friend would probably keep trying to convince him if they didn't leave soon. "Alright, we'll catch you later then. I'll send you any blackmail material I can get on Gil, sí? Have a good night!"

"Yeah, have a good night with _that._ Kesesese!" Gil laughed his way out of the apartment and Francis shut the door behind them with a smile, wave, and a goodbye. He really was looking forward to their weekly party all day, but sometimes things just come up. There were plenty more Fridays to come.

With the rowdy crew gone the apartment was quiet again. Arthur stretched his limbs but ended up falling off the couch with a thump. "Ow! Blast it all…"

Francis sighed and sat on one end of the couch then hoisted his company back up. "Mon dieu, Arthur! You only had one glass of wine, and it wasn't even that potent."

"Well I haven't ever had alcohol before or any kind of drug for tha' matter." Arthur blushed in embarrassment but it was mostly hidden by the drunk one already there. Not even a day on Earth and he was already intoxicated. Smashing. "Ya didn' have to stay, ya know."

"I know, but I wanted to. Can't have an angel all alone in his time of need, can we? People have guardian angels but who watches over the angels?"

Arthur scoffed. "What dumb question. God, of course. An' guardian angels don' quite work like tha'. We usually don' leave heaven…which isn't a place, by the way."

"What do you mean? Heaven doesn't exist?"

"It exists. Just not like how ya might think. Heaven is all around, ya jus' don' see it."

"Hm. That sounds…nice. So what is heaven like, Arthur?" Francis asked curiously. Arthur paused before saying anything making him think he wasn't going to answer.

"It's warm…" he said softly with a look of longing, "…and there's light everywhere. It's peaceful…quiet..."

Francis smiled at the calm look on the other's face as he leaned back into the couch. "I can see why you would want to go back. Earth must be hell for you."

"Absolutely not," Arthur argued to the contrary. "In a way, Earth is the heaven for us angels."

"But why?"

"Because those here're loved unconditionally, while we flutter around know'n tha' if we make one mistake we become a fallen. If I don' get back soon, tha'll happen to me."

"Ah, I understand." Francis only understood to a point, but it was something. He didn't know what happens to a fallen but he didn't want it to happen to Arthur. "If you need any help at all, I am here. Oui?"

Arthur gave a short laugh (or was that a hiccup?) and let his head roll back so he could close his green eyes. There was the smallest hint of a smile there. "Thanks, 'Franny.' Ya know, ya're friends're tossers."

"Yeah, I know. Now come on, let's get you to bed."

000

The next morning was started by Arthur who woke up groaning and holding his head. "Aggghhhh…blimey! Is this a _hangover_? Ohhh…I'll never drink again…"

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><p><strong>Artie and his drunken antics. Lololol.<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**I think I should explain something here…This story is mostly written during periods of artist block for my other ones. Gives me something to jog my writing spirit. Weeeell I won't be writing for a little bit because of issues that are going on in the real world, so that means this story will probably go largely un-updated for awhile. Hopefully I will still be able to pick it back up again, but if I can't then I will let you know. I may even give it away to anyone who wants to make sure it gets finished. With that, I give you one more chapter before my extended absence! Thank you guys for reading and reviewing and sending me your love! :)**

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><p>Arthur sat on the couch feeling incredibly bored. He couldn't recall a single time when he had nothing to do. For the first half hour or so the angel watched television. After deciding there was nothing good to watch he flicked off the telly and explored the apartment a little. When there was nothing else to investigate, he sat back down on the couch and let out a huge sigh.<p>

"How do mortals do it?" Arthur mumbled. He knew the life of humans was hard and strenuous but he didn't expect the waiting around to be the worst part. How did they cope with the curse of free time so well? Well…many humans had hobbies and interests. They would spend a lot of time doing crossword puzzles, reading, scrapbooking, and whatever else they felt like. But Arthur didn't have any hobbies other than his job. With his bow and arrows in the possession of his pupil, he was left with nothing to do.

"I guess I will just have to make a hobby for myself, then."

Francis was there for the first part of the day but left when he had errands to run. He asked Arthur if he would be okay by himself for a few hours while he was out and Arthur said he would now that he had some medication for his awful headache and was gradually feeling better. The angel was even getting the hang of balance and could move freely without being helped everywhere.

After a bit of thought, Arthur decided to go into the kitchen. He surveyed the countertops and pantry, the fridge, and the pots and pans. Yes, this is something he saw many people do for fun. Cooking. It was something the angel always found fascinating to watch time and time again. They put so much effort into creating tastes and concoctions that angels would never be able to try. Now that he required food, Arthur realized why they did it. Eating good things is delightful! So imagine what fun making them could bring.

He made a decision. He was going to fill his time and cook something, and when it came out golden brown and scrumptious he could give it to his host as a sort of thank you. Francis may be a tosser but Arthur was still a gentleman, after all.

000

Francis was back earlier than usual. It was mid afternoon when he parked his car and rode the elevator up to his penthouse apartment, thinking back on the cause. For some reason, he hadn't really felt the need to be very social during any of his visits like he usually was. The pretty smile of the girl he passed on the street didn't bring about the typical schemes in his mind like it often would. He felt tired, so perhaps it was only that. However, his energy seemed to rise as he neared his apartment and fished out his keys. Perhaps all he needed was a nice relaxing day at home…with a pretty angel boy, of course.

"Arthur, I'm ho…" Francis trailed off when he opened his door and a certain smell hit him before he could hang up his coat. So much for a relaxing day at home. "Good heavens, what is THAT?"

Arthur popped in around the corner wearing an apron with a wooden spoon in one hand. He had bits of flour and other ingredients on his face and clinging to his hair. "Welcome home, I made some early dinner."

"Dinner?" Francis hurriedly took off his shoes and went to the kitchen where the rancid smell was coming from. When he arrived he nearly fainted at what he saw. His beautiful kitchen was littered with various containers (some half full, others now empty) and ingredients stuck to the cupboards like blood splatter at a murder scene. On the stove was a pot of…something…slowly bubbling and a glass dish that looked like it came from the oven. Inside was a big lump of what he could only describe as charcoal smoking and turning the air gray. It looked like WWIII.

"I worked hard on it," Arthur said with a smile. He honestly looked proud of the mess he made as if it were comparable to something that could be presented to the Queen of England. The man waited with his hands on his hips as Francis struggled to close his jaw and tried not to laugh, cry, or spontaneously combust. "It is a good thing you got back when you did. Now you can eat it hot and I don't have to reheat it."

"Uh…thank you…very much, Arthur…this is…"

"Nice? Thoughtful? Amazing?" Arthur tried to fill in the blank.

"…Surprising."

"Yeah, I guess it is. I have been watching humans cook for hundreds of years and I decided to give it a shot. How hard could it be? It looks like I might have a knack for it, if I do say so myself."

Francis didn't feel like he could say anything without insulting the man. Arthur was seriously proud of his abomination like a child and their first finger painting. And what do you do when a child happily says that a blob of green paint is you and waits for your opinion? You lie. "Um, right. It looks…wonderful. I am going to change out of these clothes and into something comfortable."

"Okay. I'll set the table."

"N-no, no need! I, uh, had a big lunch today."

"That's alright. You just have to take a bite and tell me how it tastes." There seemed to be no arguing with him.

The horrible smell as if a rodent died and was in the sun for days, then baked in an oven until it caught fire, was everywhere. Even in Francis's room. He opened the window and turned on a fan to start airing it out and leaned out to take a big gulp of fresh air. Leaving Arthur in his apartment alone for a few hours was a terrible idea! Now his kitchen was his own personal hell and Arthur was expecting him to eat whatever-it-was that he made. Was Arthur really an Angel of Death trying to kill him? Or maybe he was demon? Yes, that was it. Arthur was obviously a demon in disguise as a cute green-eyed blonde. That would explain a lot.

Francis took as much time as he could to get dressed. When he couldn't stall any longer without Arthur nagging him to come out already, he left the safety of his room and went into the dining room. True to his word, Arthur had set the table. A chunk of charcoal and a bowl of thick sludge waited for him on one side and a matching arrangement sat in front of the beaming angel.

"I think you'll like it. It has extra nutmeg and garlic butter."

"Ah…does it?"

"Yup. Now try it!" Arthur stared at Francis from across the table in excitement. He couldn't wait to see the look on Francis's face when he tasted Arthur's hard work. Sure it wasn't as pretty as the other things he's seen in restaurants and stores but he was sure that looks didn't matter.

Francis eyed the lump on his plate curiously. His fork poked it to find that although it looked burned beyond recognition, it was somehow squishy. "What do you call this…uh…dish?"

"This is a carrot pudding and in the bowl is fish stew. I found the recipes in a book on your shelf, but you didn't have all the ingredients so I improvised. Seriously, the stew called for an eel's head! That is utterly mad. I used liver instead." Francis had to concentrate on not gagging. "Hurry up and take a bite already, I worked very hard on this. You should be honored to eat something made by an angel."

The spongy 'carrot pudding' was hard to cut with a fork. Francis was eventually able to do it and lifted the tiny piece to his face where he gave it one good look even though he told himself not to. He made a tiny prayer before sucking in a big breath, and he took the plunge before Arthur's waiting emerald eyes.

"ACK!" Francis lurched the second it hit his tongue. It was all he could do to spit it out and run to the kitchen where he could get something to wash the horrid thing away. Arthur watched in shock when his carrot pudding was rejected.

"Francis? Hey, that was mean! What are you doing, spitting it out like that?"

Francis spared no time to speak before he could down a tall glass of water. "Because if I kept it in my mouth any longer I would have to amputate my tongue!" So much for letting him down gently. The carrot pudding tasted like a mix of rotten apples, way too much nutmeg, ash, and hot sauce blended together and turned into a squishy mass of…gosh, there were no words for it! It left a disgusting film on his tongue that tasted like pure death itself!

"WHAT? You ungrateful frog! How dare you!"

"No, how dare you try to poison me using my own kitchen! That was about as close to food as a pile of shit!"

Arthur scowled deeply. "My cooking is not sh…" his voice went out when he tried to swear and it only made him more irritated. "…that! You are just too picky. I slaved away making this and someone is going to eat it!"

"Alright, be my guest," Frances gestured to Arthur's plate and the angel looked down. "If you feel this meal deserves better than a hazmat team, then you eat it."

"Fine, I will! I at least know how to appreciate good food." Arthur sat down again and grumbled as he picked up his fork. He speared the carrot pudding lump and took a big bite out of it never letting his glare leave the other across the room. That is, until the glare became a wide-eyed look of revulsion.

Francis was going to laugh when he realized Arthur ran the risk of spitting all over his expensive dining room. He quickly drew another glass of water and gave it to Arthur just as he made it to the sink after spitting out the huge bite he stupidly took. He drank the whole thing in a few gulps and ran the tap so he could lean down drink more right from the faucet. Now Francis could laugh. The man burst into a fit while Arthur gargled and spit out small bits of black ick, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as he tried to get the awful taste out of his mouth.

"Wha-what the bloody heck happened? I didn't cook it to taste like that!"

"Of course you didn't! Honhonhon!"

"Then what went wrong? I put a bunch of really good things in it, why does it not taste like them?"

"You have never cooked before, have you?"

"No…but I see mortals do it all the time."

"Watching and doing are two very different things." Francis calmed himself down enough to pull out a bag of sugar from the pantry and pull out two spoons from the drawer. Arthur was beside himself and sticking his tongue out as if that would help keep the flavor away. "Here, this will make it a little better." He scooped up the white crystals and popped one of the spoons into Arthur's mouth. The angel froze for a moment before he realized the dreadful taste was suddenly being replaced by a powerfully sweet substance. He felt like he could almost melt to that taste.

"Mmmmm…thanks," he hummed around the spoon. Francis put a spoonful of sugar into his own mouth and nodded.

"You are welcome. Honestly, Arthur, I don't think I have ever tried something worse than that in my entire life."

"Me neither," the other sighed. He leaned up against the wall holding the spoon handle between his lips with one hand. Francis just now noticed he was looking rather crestfallen. "Bullocks. This is humiliating."

"Aw, cheer up," Francis pat him on the shoulder and joined him with his back against the wall. "It was your first time cooking. Everyone always messes up their first time somehow."

"I thought I could do it, though. You make it look so easy."

"I guess not even angels are perfect, huh? Don't worry about it. I appreciate the effort."

"Yeah, well…it wasn't just for you anyway, frog." Arthur turned away from his host trying to hide the bit or pink sneaking over his cheeks. The other simply chuckled, getting used to the odd behavior. That seemed to be his way of saying 'you're welcome.' For an angel he sure had a lot of pride.

"Well, it looks like my kitchen is trashed and most of my food is gone. This usually doesn't happen until Gil comes over. Shall we eat out instead?"

Arthur fiddled with the spoon he was sucking on for every last taste of sugar he could get. His eyes didn't meet the blue ones watching him when he mumbled, "Okay."

"Great. I know a nice little place not too far away…though we will have to do something about your attire." Francis gestured to Arthur's angel clothes and started thinking of anything that might fit the slimmer man from his wardrobe. Before he could offer anything, Arthur put his hand up to stop him.

"Say no more." With a wave of his hand, the white garbs and golden ribbon transformed before Francis's eyes. In place was a pair of nice black slacks and a modern brown vest over a white button up shirt. He adjusted the collar of the matching jacket that came with it and smirked at the surprised look on Francis's face. "What? Too formal or not enough?"

"No, uh…perfect." He shook his head and chuckled. "I will never get used to your magic, will I?"

000

Arthur followed Francis into his car and they drove onto main street. He said there was a wonderful place for great food he went to often and that the other would like it. When they arrived, Francis parked and they went inside the quaint building wedged between two shopping centers. It was deep blue with white trim and looked as if it were made to appear old. The moment the doors opened, Arthur was hit with a soft whoosh of warm air and delicious smells. Piano could be heard and the entrance was laced in green vines that sported small white morning glories. The delicate plant grew untamed along the creamy textured yellow walls as waiters and waitresses went back and forth from room to room with trays and drinks. The whole place had a warm feeling to it accented by the wine red carpet and lights hidden behind stained glass.

"What do you think?" Francis asked. Arthur looked around and had to agree on how charming the place was.

"Just the two of you?" A waitress asked kindly. She wore a black dress uniform that went to her knees and bright red lipstick.

"Oui," Francis answered. She bowed her head and led them through the hallway that felt much like they were walking through a garden. An elegant room with a high ceiling and a large fresco mural was their destination. There weren't many people around and the two were seated by a window overlooking a large rose bush. It wasn't blooming at this time of year but it was still very pretty.

The waitress set the menus down on the table and a man with a pitcher came around to fill their empty crystal glasses with ice water. "Bonsoir Monsieur Bonnefoy, it is a pleasure to have you this evening. Which wine will you be having tonight?"

"Merci, Mademoiselle Claire. Is Rhone available?"

"Oui. And for your…" she gave Arthur a quick look over, "…company?"

"I will have earl grey tea with some sugar, thank you my dear." He felt like he was being scrutinized.

"Very good. I will be back shortly to take your requests. Take all the time you need." The woman bowed her head again and gave Francis a nice smile. He returned it with one of his own before she left. Arthur watched her go, noticing how she was looking behind her slightly as she went. She appeared a little troubled.

"Do you know her?"

"Not personally. I come here often and she is usually my server," Francis replied and picked up his menu. Arthur did the same and scanned the many names and descriptions. From the corner of his eye he saw Claire peek around the corner at their table. Why was she watching them like that?

* * *

><p><strong>The food Artie made was inspired by a scene in Hogan's Heroes, where Corporal Newkirk is arguing about Corporal Lebeau's fish stew being a 'gourmet dish.' They act so much like Arthur and Francis, it's almost scary. Classic French vs English. Look up "Hogan's Heroes: Ruddy Fish Stew" on YouTube, you will get a laugh! :)<strong>


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